The Grand Game
by DanteLegna
Summary: No one could deny Daobeth was a prosperous kingdom that thrived beyond imagination through the years. Camelot was in need of a powerful ally, but perhaps the price to be paid would be higher than he had ever thought. The Game has begun. / Fem!Merlin; royal!Merlin; AU, slightly OOC. Mostly Arthur/Merlin. Rated M because of good reasons.
1. Prologue

_**A/N: Hello, and welcome to my new fanfiction! I've had this idea bothering me for a while and now I decided to put it in a real work. I hope you enjoy it! But before we get started, let me warn you. First of all, this is my first fem!Merlin fanfiction, and I'm trying my best not to let her be too much of an OOC. I hope I can do it right. Now, there'll be a lot of mature content ahead, as treason, plots of assassination, attempts of sexual assault, slavery, and maybe more. But fret not, for there'll be some romance too! If you don't like any of those subjects, please leave now. Thank you so much for reading this, and now let's move on!**_

* * *

 **Disclaimer:** _Merlin_ belongs to BBC, and the original idea of The Grand Game comes from _Dragon Age_ , that belongs to BioWare. I own nothing but minor OCs and my own writing.

 **Warnings:** Fem!Merlin; royal!Merlin. Mature content. Assault, treachery, assassination plots, language, manipulation, slavery. Age difference, dubious consente.

 **Pairings:** casual Merlin/Arthur; Merlin/Uther; Arthur/Morgana

 **Summary:** No one could deny Daobeth was a prosperous kingdom that thrived beyond imagination through the years. Camelot was in need of a powerful ally, but perhaps the price to be paid would be higher than he had ever thought. The Game has begun.

* * *

 _ **The Grand Game**_

 **Prologue**

No one could deny Daobeth was a prosperous kingdom that thrived beyond imagination through the years, a powerful kingdom that stood for its own, with no need of alliances or peace treats. Uther Pendragon was no fool, and as much as his skin crawled every moment he remembered the King of Daobeth was a friend of magic and its users, he'd rather turn a blind eye to the very existence of that cursed land than start a war that couldn't be won. Trying to march against the strongest of the five kingdoms was pure madness, and he wasn't a mad man (at least not like Enred). Let the damned place to crumble to ruins by its own mistakes, as trusting in sorcery. Sooner or later it'd bring nothing but chaos and death, and Camelot would claim these lands and thrive as much as Daobeth.

But nothing had really prepared the King of Camelot for the messenger that arrived unexpectedly one day, invinting his court to come to Daobeth and take part of the Winter Ball. Everyone had always heard the rumors about Daobeth's court, about the internal conflicts that seemed to occur daily, and how _only a few_ were invited occasionally to participate of such special events held by King Balinor's only child, the treasure of his heart. He'd give her the world if she asked for it, and Uther didn't doubt the man would do anything only to achieve his daughter's sickening desires. Unfortunately, even if every inch of his body screamed against it, refusing was just _out of question_ \- refusing would mean war, and Camelot wasn't at her full strenght to deal with a place filled with sorcerers in the moment.

He could do nothing but bend to the wishes of a very peculiar King and Princess.

The messenger left happily at dawn, but Uther didn't feel _so content_. As his court traveled through Camelot's lands faster than he'd desired, he couldn't ignore that little ugly feeling gnawing at his guts, poisoning him slowly. Those next weeks would be very, very long, but if he was lucky enough, _perhaps_ he could even survive the Daobethian court and their so called **Game**.

Uther wished he knew how to play it, and now it was too late to try to learn.


	2. I: The Game is On

**Disclaimer:** _Merlin_ belongs to BBC, and the original idea of The Grand Game comes from _Dragon Age_ , that belongs to BioWare. I own nothing but minor OCs and my own writing.

 **Warnings:** Fem!Merlin; royal!Merlin. Mature content. Assault, treachery, assassination plots, language, manipulation, slavery. Age difference, dubious consente.

 **Pairings:** casual Merlin/Arthur; Merlin/Uther; Arthur/Morgana

 **Summary:** No one could deny Daobeth was a prosperous kingdom that thrived beyond imagination through the years. Camelot was in need of a powerful ally, but perhaps the price to be paid would be higher than he had ever thought. The Game has begun.

* * *

 _ **The Grand Game**_

 **Chapter I: The Game is On**

Winter was always harsh and cruel for everyone in the five kingdoms - everyone but for those in Daobeth. Oh the stories about the "prodigious land" were always _so interesting_. People said the land had been blessed by the ancient gods themselves, too proud of their newly creation to let it be ruined by human hands through the centuries. Protected by the very heavens, Daobeth thrived and quickly became the most powerful kingdom to stand in Albion, with no needs of allegiances or friends or even peace treats. It was a common knowledge that no one outside the borders could even scratch the divine shield covering Daobeth, and no one dared to give it a try and risk their lifes.

Myrddin felt the urge to laugh every time she heard those stories full of nonsense.

Every noble in Daobeth knew the ugly truth behind their story, and every one of them was willing to pay the price. And why wouldn't they? Even magic itself, that had always been above _the game_ , participated in it. The best player of all, the nobles whispered and the bards sang. The very heart of the kingdom, yet there were those who desired to see such heart stop beating.

Pure poetry, she should admit, and dangerously _exciting_.

"My lady, they've crossed the borders. It's assumed they'll arrive at nightfall."

Myrddin blinked, pushing herself out of her sturpor. Oh yes, the guests were coming. The entire court of Camelot would be there to appreciate their greatest event, to be used in the game either they wanted it or not. Her fingers touched the Royal Seal resting close to her hairbrush, enjoying the cool sensation against her skin. So much she had heard about the brute, tyrant King Uther and his doings throught the years, of how he slaughtered innocents and culprits alike only because they had magic.

It'd be funnier than she had expected.

"Eileen, send word to my Father. Tell him I'm very grateful for the gift, and that I shall make him proud. That'll be all."

As the maid scurried herself out of the chambers, Myrddin felt a happy sigh escaping her lips. Tonight would be a great night. She slipped the Royal Seal into her finger, finally ready to face the storm waiting just outside. But before she left, the Princess stared at the mirror for a long moment, and the white, rich mask resting over her face, covering her beautiful features, smiled back at her.

"The game, my dear," the mask said clearly. "is on."

* * *

 _ **A/N: Hello again! Thank you for taking your time to read and F &F! It means a lot to me, really! Now, I'm sorry for the very short chapter but I promise the next ones will be longer. I was just trying to expose each side's point of view and I hope I did it well. There'll be a lot of secrets around, and lots of tension and people you can't trust at all. Now, if you could leave a review it'd make me really happy!**_

 _ **Thank you again! See you~**_


	3. II: Wicked Hearts and Wicked Eyes

**Disclaimer:** _Merlin_ belongs to BBC, and the original idea of The Grand Game comes from _Dragon Age_ , that belongs to BioWare. I own nothing but minor OCs and my own writing.

 **Warnings:** Fem!Merlin; royal!Merlin. Mature content. Assault, treachery, assassination plots, language, manipulation, slavery. Age difference, dubious consente.

 **Pairings:** casual Merlin/Arthur; Merlin/Uther; Arthur/Morgana

 **Summary:** No one could deny Daobeth was a prosperous kingdom that thrived beyond imagination through the years. Camelot was in need of a powerful ally, but perhaps the price to be paid would be higher than he had ever thought. The Game has begun.

* * *

 _ **The Grand Game**_

 **Chapter II: Wicked Hearts and Wicked Eyes**

The very moment they crossed the borders was the exact moment Arthur finally understood why everyone in Camelot seemed to be afraid of Daobeth. That kingdom was _filled_ with magic, and the mere thought made his skin crawl in disgust and fear. Once the caravans stepped into the mysterious kingdom, the world around them changed completely. Even the sky above their heads seemed different. The sun shone brighter, the cold winds of winter that had been eating his skin helplessly for the past hours was nothing but a gentle breeze caressing his face now. The fields and crops they passed by were prosperous, the camps were rich and there was no doubt _no one_ in that kingdom would be starving during the Winter.

Sorcery. There was no other explanation for that.

And now Arthur could understand completely why everyone in Camelot feared Daobeth at the point of barely speaking aloud about the kingdom, why only the rumors ran around on the servants and maids' mouths. Even Uther, the Great King that had driven magic away from their lands, that didn't tremble at the sight of dragons and powerful sorceres, seemed to be uncomfortable - the Prince would never say his father, the bravest man he had ever know, was _scared_ \- for being in that cursed place. And not to mention that Morgana didn't speak during the whole travel, which for once was a **blessing**.

They should visit magical lands more often, only for the sake of leaving Morgana completely speechless. That was a very good idea indeed.

"Remember, both of you."

Uther's voice suddenly broke the silence, pulling Arthur out of his thoughts and startling Morgana. The young lady stared at both men, wriggling her hands over her rein nervously and Arthur felt a sting of compassion hitting him on the guts. That was the first time since Gorlois died that she traveled so far to take part in royal festivities, and said festivities being on a land full of sorcery shouldn't be easy for her. The Prince offered her a gentle smile before focusing on what Uther was trying to say.

"I have no idea what's waiting for us on the citadel. Their traditions, their culture are completely apart of our own. Their court has nothing to do with ours. Keep your eyes open, and do not trust anyone but our own people."

"I don't understand it." Morgana finally found her voice again, but her frail attemps of sounding fierce didn't work as she planned. "If they're so different from us, why are we here? I suppose you didn't come only to be mocked."

"I know you're confused, and I'm sorry for involving you in this matter." The King smiled gently. "They care nothing about us. Just pretend to be one of them, it shouldn't be difficult. They're arrogant and impertinent, always thinking they're better than others."

"So Arthur will feel at home again."

The Prince hissed an insult under his breath and looked away at the path they were traveling, decided to ignore the conversation. He had heard enough rumors about Daobeth to know where exactly they were stepping in. They were heading right into a nest of poisonous snakes that were ready to strike at any moment. He knew it was a necessary evil, that his father had only accepted the invitation because there was no other answer to be given. For a moment Arthur wondered that, if he was King, he'd have done the same - bending at another King's will, a man that friend of magic and sorcerers.

Deep down he knew the answer, but thinking about it, about being able to refuse such a stupid, preposterous invitation, made him feel better.

At some point, the conversation died away, leaving an uncomfortable, heavy silence around. Arthur could still hear some lords and ladies' excited murmurs, but he couldn't feel so relaxed. The more they approached the citadel, the more he grew restless. When night fell and they finally reached the huge city, something inside Arthur twisted and growled angrily. They shouldn't be there. Behind these tall walls there were sorcerers, witches. The very magic that his father fought so hard to destroy, hidden safely behind someone else's wings.

It was wrong and despicable.

The streets of the low town were lighted as if it was still day, filled with people, servants and peasants laughing and dancing, children playing and running after their horses, so different from Camelot were everything was quiet and peaceful after nightfall. And that was quite the sight, indeed. Except for the children, almost every man and woman in there seemed to wear a strange mask over their faces. Some used the same mask, and some moved away from others using a very different mask. Bards sang different songs at the same time, making Arthur wonder how it was even possible to understand something in that mess. The knights didn't even bother to look at them as the caravan passed by, as if they were invisible - as if they weren't a threat.

And they weren't, if he cared to think about it better. How could a simple sword match pure sorcery?

Soon the citadel came into view, and Arthur felt himself losing his breath at the marvelous sight. The castle was probably twice the size of Camelot's, with countless wings and towers, the greatest palace he had ever seen in his entire life. It was _overwhelming_. When they reached the golden gates that led to the courtyard - that were still wide shut -, some servants approached them quickly, but something about them was just off. Arthur forced himself to pay better attention to the man attending him, and then his stomach twisted in disgust. The masks the "servants" wore were the same, an white and ugly thing, that linked to a collar firmly wrapped around their necks.

Slaves. Ghosts with no voice nor face nor will.

Arthur needed to remember they weren't in Camelot, where every man was free and served only because they were willing to. Slavery had been banished from his lands for a long time, long before Uther's reign, and no one intended to bring it back. But being forced to face it so freely, so unexpectedly, made him feel sick and weak. Uther's firm grip on his shoulder pushed the Prince back into reality, and just in that moment he noticed Camelot's court being led to some elegant tents set along the walls surrouding the castle.

It was obvious they wouldn't be meeting their royal hosts too soon.

The tent he entered was more glamorous than he had believed. It almost resembled his quarters back in Camelot, big and comfortable. He could feel at ease in there, if it wasn't for the slave following him around in silence, never looking up. A perfect ghost, indeed. Arthur sucked in a deep breath, trying to concentrate on the current matter. He could understand why his father had accept the sudden invitation, in order not to start a war. The King of Daobeth was a strange man with strange, loathsome traditions. For some time he tried to start a conversation with the slave, but the man didn't spare a single word, only offered him clean, warm clothes and helped him to get undressed.

It seemed even the clothes they'd be using at the festivities had been prepared beforehand, tailored in the pure red and gold of Camelot. He had noticed the dragon, the sigil of his house, adorning one of the frontal pocktes, resting right over his heart. A touching gesture, yet it wasn't enough to make him feel better. Just when he finished buttoning up the velvet jacket, Uther came into the tent, already dressed and rested. The red suited him almost perfectly, Arthur noticed. The King's clothes were far more rich and elegant than his own, but perhaps that was the way things should be around there.

"Are you ready?" Uther's voice was steady but there was a hint of gentleness hidden somewhere, making Arthur relax a bit. It was good to notice he wasn't the only one worried.

"Yes, Father."

The King nodded, staring at his son for a long moment before giving him a firm pat on the shoulder and turning to leave the tent. Arthur closed his eyes, gathering all the courage he had manage to find within his body, and then sighed deeply, moving to follow his father. There were lords and ladies of Camelot murmuring and giggling, excited for finally being able to take part of the mysterious events of Daobeth. Morgana was standing close to Uther, the red dress making her look too beautiful for her own good. As Uther's clothes, the dress had suited her too well, and Arthur needed to remember the King's ward was also the skinny girl he had used to chase down through Camelot's streets when they were just children.

Unfortunately, before he could make any cheeky remark about Morgana, some Daobethian knights approached them, pointing at the golden gates that were slowly being opened. Arthur swallowed back his enthusiasm and felt his expression turning sturdy as they started moving towards the courtyard. There were countless nobles around the majestic courtyard, gathered in small groups, laughing loudly or speaking between whispers. And just like everyone else - besides knights and children - they had seen before, every person in that damned place seemed to be wearing a mask over their faces.

And as Camelot's court finally crossed the gates, the mood changed all at once. Arthur felt every pair of eyes in Daobeth focused on him, expressions and smirks and thoughts hidden behind those stupid masks. It was _unsettling_ and overwhelming, and for a moment he wished he was a child so he could run back at his home and ignore the embarrassing stares at him. But then, just as quick as it had happened, the lords and ladies of Daobeth moved away or went back to their own business, as if they weren't even there. Arthur eyed his father for a mere second, the same confusion and frustration he was feeling written over the King's features.

"Who are all these people, Uther?" Morgana asked quietly, and her voice trembled under her breath. "Don't they know who we are?"

"They know exactly who you are, Lady Morgana."

The voice, soft and melodical, with a strong but sweet accent, echoed _too close_. Arthur needed all his might not to move away as his body wanted to. He looked around, regretting it in the very moment his eyes found the source of his distress, his mouth ridiculously agape. The woman standing in front of the royal family of Camelot was no older nor taller than Morgana, but her entire frame was much more gracious and elegant. Her dark, complicated-looking dress was undoubtedly the most expensive and most magnificent Arthur had seen in his entire life, made of the purest resources they'd never find outside Daobeth. After a moment his eyes stopped on the mask over her face, and his stomach clenched painfully.

It wasn't the same mask he had seen on the slaves few time before, but somehow it was similar in some sort of way. Her mask wasn't ugly nor uncomfortable, and there wasn't any collar linked to it. No, that mask was the finest thing someone could ever create, perfectly shaped to cover good part of her pale face, leaving only her rosy lips at sight. Her eyes, _impossibly_ blue and bright, stared back at him for a long moment, as if trying to glimpse his very soul. For a second he didn't doubt it was possible. Then his eyes traced her long, raven colored hair, curled up perfectly over her exposed shoulders, covering her small but still scandalously noticiable breasts.

A painful, yet very discreet hit on his side broke the enchantment and Arthur hold back the furious retort he'd give Morgana - only because his father staring at him with clear disapproval on his grey eyes. When the strange lady giggled, it became obvious for him that he had been staring for just _too long_. The Prince felt a wave of embarrassing red staining his cheeks, and they hadn't even entered the castle! What an idiot he was.

"I apologize for my rude manners." The lady seemed to compose herself and a sweet smile danced on her lips as she curtsied very gracefully for a moment. "My name is Myrddin, Princess of Daobeth."

Arthur felt the air escaping his lungs, mortified and completely abashed, and Morgana buried her elbow deeper into his ribs this time, forcing him to remember how to breath again. And he had thought he couldn't embarrass himself more than he had already done. Gladly Uther took a step further before the Prince could open his mouth to finish ruining his image, taking control of the situation, and Arthur took a deep breath of pure relief.

"It's an honor to finally meet you, my lady." The King of Camelot smiled cordially, holding the Princess' hand to place a light kiss on her palm. "Yet, I had expected your Father to be here as well."

Myrddin smiled again, but this time she looked lightly ashamed and somewhat curious when she spoke. "I apologize, my lord. You're _my_ guests during the Winter Ball, therefore I shall be the only one attending you and your court. However, if you have any desire in speaking with my Father, it can be arranged throughout the festivities."

"I'd be much obliged, Your Highness." Uther nodded softly before stepping back, seeming completely satisfied with that. Arthur didn't even try to understand how his father could act so complacent, but then he remembered that kingdom had its own strange traditions that shouldn't be questioned.

"If there's anything else you or your court requires, please feel free to ask it to my servants. The castle is yours to come and go as you please, the gardens are open and the ballroom will be ready soon. Welcome to Daobeth, my lords. My lady. We shall meet again inside." Myrddin offered them a soft smile before moving away, vanishing from Arthur's sight before he could even comprehend half of what she had said.

That would be a very, very long week.

* * *

 _ **A/N: Hello! Thank you guys for taking your time to read, favorite and follow! It means a lot to me! Things are warming up, huh? There'll be a lot of things ahead, conspiracy and all the bad guys showing around. Who would you trust? If you have some special request, let me know! Thank you again for your support and see you later!**_


End file.
